


Don't Hurt Yourself

by steggyisimmortal



Series: Shield and Gun [26]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fake Marriage, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 10:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steggyisimmortal/pseuds/steggyisimmortal
Summary: Steve goes on his first undercover mission.  He runs into a familiar face.





	Don't Hurt Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for Steggy Week 2019 on tumblr

Steve gripped the strap tighter when the plane banked right. The pilot’s apologies lingered in his ears. The Stirling aircraft was loud but she handled smoothly. Steve was thankful for that. He was nervous enough as it was.

A week ago Phillips had sought him out only to stare at him for a few awkward moments before telling him to grow a beard. He walked away before Steve had a chance to ask any questions. Later, the colonel told it was for a mission but to keep quiet about it. They’d been waiting on intelligence for weeks so Steve was grateful for something to occupy his mind. 

He hadn’t seen Peggy in that time. She wasn’t in London on their return to base. That wasn’t like her. When Steve had inquired after her, Phillips had only said there was nothing to worry about. That hadn’t exactly eased Steve’s mind. 

Their relationship had changed since January. It didn’t feel better, but it definitely didn’t feel worse. It was in a strange limbo. Steve had never been in a relationship to know if this was a normal stage or not. He was too embarrassed to ask Bucky but he didn’t think his friend would have any advice. His relationships weren’t exactly long term. He was eager to see Peggy again but Phillips wasn’t talking. 

So he holed himself up in his room and scratched at his new beard.

Finally, right before Steve was on the verge of grabbing the razor and shaving, Phillips tossed some clothes at him and told him to get ready. Thirty minutes later Steve found himself on a plane with an RAF pilot. The man handed him a file and told him to memorize it because he couldn’t take it with him when he was done. 

The pilot had barely spoken. Hadn’t shared a name either. Orders, Steve guessed. He shook his hand and welcomed him on board before leading the plane in one of the shakiest take offs Steve had ever felt. The pilot hadn’t seemed nervous so he forced himself to relax. 

He looked out the small window. The moon was almost full, shining its familiar pale yellow glow behind a few hazy clouds. He had no idea how close they were to his destination. He didn’t even know where his destination was. Despite the secrecy around the entire thing, the file hadn’t actually contained much useful information. To Steve, at least. Much of it was redacted. Even then his information was contradictory. Phillips had told him he was meeting with an S. 13. The file told him his contact was one Eva Baker. Either Phillips had lost his mind or Steve was missing a piece of the puzzle. The biggest bit of information he received was the name he was to go by - Joseph Baker. 

The sound of a buzzer and the red light coming on next to his head got his attention. That was his signal. He slung the parachute onto his back and tightened all the straps. Mentally he ran through all the details in the file again. 

“Remember, hide the silk in the bushes immediately,” the pilot advised.

“Do you know where I’m going?” Steve yelled over the noise of the engines.

The rear door of the plane opened in answer. 

“Try not to hit any trees,” the pilot yelled back. “Good luck!”

Snapping his mouth shut, Steve resolutely walked towards the back. He took a couple of deep breaths before hurling himself into the cold night air.

* * *

He would never get the hang of folding a parachute. Somehow his always ended a tangled mess ripped to shreds. He could blame it on his strength but he was sure it was just because of his frustration. 

He tried to get his bearings. It was late at night and the moon illuminated the area plenty for him to get max visibility. His problem was his lack of gear. He’d been told to leave everything behind – his compass, his uniform, his shield, anything that could be traced to him. He felt naked. 

He scarcely went anywhere without his shield. He had no need to. The people he was attacking knew exactly who was coming for them. Almost a year into his service with the war, that shield was an extension of him. So was his compass. It was his father’s. One of the only physical possessions his ma had had of him. It was his lucky charm. He didn’t consider himself to be a superstitious guy but he didn’t feel right without it.

With a sigh, he chose a direction that felt right and started walking. 

A faint bird call stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked to the left for the noise and saw a man of average height emerge from behind some bushes. He didn’t particularly stand out – beige hat, mustache, average build just this side of lanky. He crept closer to Steve, his eyes darting all around.

“Joseph?” he whispered.

Swallowing, Steve nodded. 

“Are you S. 13?”

“Sssshhhh, don’t say that out loud!” he scolded Steve. “Don’t say it at all. No, I’m Roger. I’m here to take you to your rendezvous.”

* * *

He wasn’t the most talkative guide but Steve supposed he had a good enough reason. 

They had walked for a few miles before they stopped at a rundown looking barn. Roger – although Steve was starting to think that wasn’t actually his name – had removed two bicycles from it and they’d been peddling ever since. 

He’d never ridden a bicycle before. It wasn’t half bad. After he’d regained his balance from crashing into that tree, anyway. He wished there was more light so he could take in the scenery. He was sure not all of it was bombed beyond all hope.

Every now and then they’d pass an area where nothing but pitch black rubble littered the ground. Railroads and buildings blown to bits. They passed untouched fields. He assumed those were for agriculture. Even the Nazis needed fields for crops.

They came upon several small buildings that became more numerous the further they rode. Two and three story buildings that were still standing relatively untouched. All of them were dark curtesy of blackout curtains. They crossed over a bridge. The river water shimmered under the moon’s touch. He could see a tall structure in the distance but couldn’t exactly make out what it was. The houses and storefronts were close together. Alleyways and sidewalks and roads looked no different. 

“Here, it’s this one,” Roger said, slowing to a stop in front of a four story building. “Stash your bicycle around back, then knock on the side door. Knock slowly five times. Bonne chance.”

Steve watched him peddle away. He looked around but he saw no one and heard nothing. With a sigh, he moved around to the back of the house as directed and stashed his bicycle under a covering he found. It took him a moment to find the surprisingly well-hidden door on the side of the building. He made sure to knock five times as the man instructed.

It made him nervous to be undertaking a mission without all the facts. What if Hydra operatives were waiting behind the door? Although Steve doubted Phillips was sending him to his death. He annoyed the man but Phillips didn’t have a vendetta against him. He hoped.

He waited impatiently until the noise of heels clacking across the floor caught his attention.

The door opened a fraction and a sliver of light escaped into the dark street. Shocked registered on his face.

“Pe-?”

“Joseph, chéri. Te voilà enfin!”

Confused, Steve allowed Peggy to pull him inside the building. There was a lone woman sitting at a table in the middle of what appeared to be a kitchen. She looked to be middle aged but with only a few candles lighting the room he couldn’t be sure. She was an attractive woman with long brown hair pulled off to one side of her face. She waved her fingers at him. He smiled timidly in return.

“No one followed you?” Peggy asked him, doing up the locks on the door.

“Uh, no. Not that I’m aware of.” He watched her cross in front of him. “Eva Baker, I presume?”

She smiled. “Of course, darling. Don’t you recognize me after our time apart? Is your wife really that unrecognizable?”

Steve let his eyes take her in. She was dressed differently than he was used to seeing her. While she was always put together, she looked phenomenal now. He was used to seeing her in uniform but the floral-patterned light pink dress showed off her figure in a way the uniform was designed to diminish. Her hair, while always done just so and pinned in place, had obviously seen more care with this hairstyle. She had pulled back a bit in the middle of her head, the curls frolicking against one another while leaving her face free of its tendrils. She had her familiar red lipstick on and he could see her nails were still painted red as well.

He was ready to sweep her up into his arms and kiss her like there was no tomorrow.

“It… has been a while.”

She rolled her eyes and dropped her hands from her waist. “Lord, and Phillips chose you? We’ll have to work on your acting.”

Tilting his head, he followed her movements to the table where the woman sat. The older woman said something in French, which reminded Steve of his earlier thoughts.

“Am I supposed to be speaking French? Because my skills aren’t really there…”

“In here, no. Tomorrow I’ll have to work around it. Let me guess – another explosive gone wrong?”

Steve nodded, knowing she was speaking of Dernier. He was a genius with explosives but he wasn’t always so safe around them. 

She looked him up and down. Unconsciously he stood straighter.

“I suppose you’ll do,” she nodded. “You do look a bit different with a beard.”

“Thanks?” he chuckled. “I think.”

She motioned to a chair at the table which he gladly took. 

“This is my aunt Yvonne.” Steve shook the woman’s outstretched hand. “This is her inn. She’s our base for this operation. I take it you read the file?”

Her aunt interrupted her, a flurry of hand gestures. Peggy was succinct in her answer and her aunt disappeared into the kitchen.

“I read the file. Is this where you’ve been?”

“Yes, the SSR is not the only organization I’m a part of,” Peggy said softly. Steve knew from experience not to ask her to elaborate. “My aunt has been working with the French Resistance since the outbreak of the war.”

Yvonne returned with a bowl of something. She placed it in front of Steve and said one of the few French words he understood – eat. He didn’t hesitate. He cradled the bowl to him. 

“Merci, Madame.”

“Il a l'air bien élevé,” Yvonne said, taking a seat at the table. “Peggy, il faut que tu choisisses celui-là. Je croix que telles bonnes manières peuvent s'étendre au boudoir.”

Steve could see the faintest hint of color on her cheeks. That was new. She’d told some of the dirtiest jokes he’d ever heard and she never once blushed then.

Peggy hummed noncommittal and turned her attention back to him. She gave him a pressed smile. “My aunt says that she’s happy to have you here.”

“I wish I knew for sure why I was here. The file didn’t tell me all that much. Just that my name is Joseph and you are Eva.” Blushing a bit, he stole a look at his bowl. “I take it we’re married?”

“Ah, yes,” she grinned. Somewhat impishly Steve thought but that could have been his imagination. “Our cover. While I would be relatively safe walking along the streets, couples attract less attention.” 

Steve nodded. The Commandos had come across many women and elderly couples that gave them shelter because, as they said, “what did the Nazis care about two frail, old farmers?”

“And I’m afraid I’m on the Gestapo’s wanted list,” Peggy continued matter of factly. “The colonel tried to get me to stay in London but naturally I convinced him otherwise.”

Steve blanched. He knew Peggy had been involved in the war effort much longer than he had but he didn’t actually know many specifics about her background. There hadn’t been much time to delve into their backgrounds. She wasn’t one to talk about herself much. Steve didn’t know if that was just her personality or because of the task at hand. 

“Peggy, are you sure you should be here doing… whatever we’re gonna do?”

She made a face at him. “Surely _you_ are not lecturing _me_ about doing what’s right.”

“Well, no but I’ve heard stories about the Gestapo and -”

“And they are all true but I am doing this no matter the threat towards me.”

They stared at one another for a few moments before Steve nodded. 

“What’s the plan?”

* * *


End file.
